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I have a confession to make, but I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it. I bought a used car. Please don’t judge me for this news update. Would you allow me to explain why a frugal guy like me did this and how I made it as frugal as possible? Pretty please?

For starters, I’m moving out of Iowa City this year to another city nearby. The rents are cheaper there, but it’ll require a little commute. Without a car, the move would be impossible. There’s no regular, public transportation available. I wouldn’t be able to make it to school and work each day.

I fretted over this decision for quite some time. I remembered how stressed and awful I felt with a car. It encouraged me to be lazy — driving instead of biking or walking. Additionally, the car loan I had left me nearly penniless each month. I couldn’t save much.

For the last year-and-a-half, I went without a car. I sold it, paid off the remainder of my car loan, and began saving hundreds of dollars by biking everywhere. The commutes to grocery stores, school, and work were tiring, but I was saving every pedal of the way. In fact, over this last 18 months, I saved thousands of dollars.

Now, I’m re-entering the world of car ownership. To make this purchase, I needed another car loan. I paid off about two-fifths of the total price and financed the rest of a $10,000 2014 Volkswagen Jetta. Let’s dig a little deeper into why I chose this car and how I made it as frugal as possible.

Make time for the search

When someone finally decides to buy a car, two pressures tend to take hold: I want it now and I need it now thinking. The want it now has extra time to find a good value, but feel compelled to be zooming around in one as soon as possible. The secondary, need it now group has not left enough time to thoroughly search. They don’t have the luxury of looking.

If at all possible, plan for a car search. Begin it as soon as you get an inkling you’ll need a car. For me, I knew about 6-7 months ago a car would be needed. I started browsing Craigslist, eBay Motors, and dealers’ websites for more information about what was available, pricing, and distance from me.

Then, for every car that sparked my interest and seemed like a good deal, I researched price expectations, reliability information, ratings, and true cost of ownership. Around the same time, I visited my car insurance’s website to calculate expected monthly costs for every possible iteration. By the end of my 6 month search, I knew my stuff — I just needed the car.

Use a credit union for financing

Big banks have one motivation: big profit. When it comes to financing, they’re usually a last resort — regardless of credit history, score, or income. Unless you are immensely wealthy, big banks can’t help save you money on a car loan.

When I was gearing up to buy my first car a few years ago, the first trip I made was to Wells Fargo. I’d been a banking customer with them for 6 years at the time. Curious to know what they’d offer me, I asked the loan officer and was told I should expect double-digit interest on any loan duration or amount. I laughed out loud at the absurdity, and asked if those were the final offers. They were.

I found solace at a credit union; PenFed, to be more specific. Credit unions run on shareholders, much like banks do. The key distinction is that shareholders are credit union members. If you open an account, you usually become a shareholder. You can vote on new board members, propose programs, and advocate for fairer pricing. Credit unions are motivated to help their members succeed. They’re not in it solely for the profit.

With my used VW Jetta, PenFed was able to give me a 2.49% car loan for four years. Even though I’m spreading the remainder of the car over four years, the payments add up rapidly. Fortunately, little will be going back to the bank as interest.

Find rental/fleet vehicles

When you look at the price I paid versus the expected price for a 2014 VW Jetta (upwards of $12,000 for one in this condition), you might wonder, how the heck did he do it?! The key was finding a rental vehicle in this instance.

There’s an underlying assumption that rental and fleet vehicles get driven harder than personally owned vehicles. In fact, it’s pervasive if you look into buying rental cars. Commenters and “experts” weigh in to tell you what they think, but the best advice I’ve seen comes from Bankrate.com:

While we all know rental cars have somewhat of a bad reputation as cars that have suffered abuse by their renters, there’s no guarantee any used car you buy hasn’t been abused in the same way unless you personally know its history.

It simply comes down to logic and critical thinking on this one. All used cars get driven, right? When we buy a used vehicle, we assume either the individual owner or dealer is telling the truth. Some rental vehicles get driven hard, and some non-rental used cars get driven hard, as well. There’s really no way of knowing.

Amidst the murkiness, you can often find a good deal. Whether true or not, people tend to discount these cars and the dealers usually do, too.

Find a friend — don’t go alone

Whether you go to a dealer, a Craigslist creeper, or your neighbor, scoping out used cars can be tricky. It’s hard to check over an entire car at one look, and oftentimes test drives don’t allow the potential purchaser to spot the defects. This is a simple instance where four eyes and two brains are better than yours alone.

When I went shopping, I tried to bring a good friend of mine who also happens to know cars. That allowed me to assume a role when at dealerships and individual’s cars. I could play stupid, as my friend checked under the hood, around the brakes, inside the wheel well, etc. This team effort allowed me to focus on what the seller was saying to pay careful attention to the words shared.

Additionally, having two people present makes a more convincing argument. When you’re negotiating a final offer, having an “expert” around can help convince someone to lower the amount. It’s a game of triangulation against the seller, and if you can perfect it, the prices can become much better.

Alright, now I’d love to know what secrets you have to securing a good value when shopping for used cars. What tips do you have?

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Please don’t make me wear the banana costume

My first job was for a smoothie company. I worked that summer selling overpriced juices of all sorts. One day they asked me to put on the infamous banana costume. I could immediately feel my face redden with embarrassment. I dreaded the outfit, and couldn’t understand why the company dressed employees like this and traipsed them out into the blazing summer heat to give away samples.

I was a lowly employee and only 16-years-old. I pretended to embrace the outfit and marched out the doors. I walked along the sidewalk, as passersby laughed and mocked me. It was the height of my acne days, too. My was face reddened and cracked from medications. The banana outfit framed my puberty perfectly. Then, a friend from high school strolled on by and took a picture of me. I was mortified.

A logo was emblazoned onto the banana costume, along with the polo shirt I wore underneath. The smoothie company owned space on my body, and I hated it.

Brand ambassador programs pay you to promote

When I entered college, I noticed numerous job opportunities to become a “brand ambassador.” These positions afforded students a little spending money to promote companies on campus. Marketing realized a simple idea: peers sell product better than television and Internet ads. If you can buy the peers, you have explosive earnings potential.

Both Amazon and Apple, for example, have brand ambassador programs. Oftentimes, their students are required to hold campus events, meet with administrators, and directly appeal to students on campus. They’re are expected to wear merchandise to represent the brand, use the hardware, and promote the products every chance they get.

These people get paid to use and advertise products they would already love! Then, companies benefit from greater revenue and influence on campus. It’s a win-win for companies and ambassadors.

Many of us market for free

Most of us are brand ambassadors for free; in fact, we pay companies to advertise for them. The bitten Apple logo beams brightly throughout many classrooms these days. It cost me thousands of dollars for the pleasure to share that brand.

People casually display their affinity, and few notice what they’re doing. Sperry Topsiders are paired with Ralph Lauren shorts and a Lacoste polo shirt. It’s easily a $300 look that feels like a walking billboard for spendthrift teens and college students.

iPhones are close at hand, and the iconic white headphones are jammed into ear canals. The world is dampened, but our senses are constantly exposed to others’ purchases. Ugg boots used to be everywhere — they’ve been replaced by Hunter rain boots. Both have well-positioned logos at the heel. Anybody walking behind them could see what they should buy next.

In wealthier places — whether college campuses or metropolitan areas — products are meant to be aspirational. Companies work tirelessly to frame their wares as synonymous with success. To wear and promote a brand is meant to be special — only afforded to the few.

Diesel, Armani Exchange, Coach, Gucci, and countless others are made “cool” by a society that accepts and loves brand ambassadorship. We just can’t help it! We’ve been socialized to appreciate the “unique” — logos just help us buy them faster.

Shed the logos and brands

I don’t want to be a walking billboard anymore. I don’t want people to ask me what brand I’m wearing. I don’t want people to be inspired by what I wear, and buy similar. Strangely enough, I’m also wired to feel flattered by their interest. Quite a conundrum.

Over the last couple years, I cleared out my closet of many aspirational and brand name clothing with gigantic logos. I don’t want to be someone else’s brand ambassador — especially without a regular paycheck. I want to be my own brand ambassador.

I want you to get to know me — the person within the clothes. I want you to meet me, not a terrifyingly large logo of a horse carrying a polo stick. More importantly, I want to see who you are. So, cover up the logos, rid your closet of excess brand stamps, and find your own look.

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Photo: Geraint Rowland/Flickr

“Ask yourself whether you are happy, and you cease to be so.”
–John Stuart Mill

“Hose off before you come in the house!”

My brother stood there, covered head to toe in mud, shirtless and wearing an awesome grin. For the last few hours, we had destroyed my parents’ manicured backyard. With sticks and odd tools (we really needed a shovel), we carved into the grass and dirt until we had a small, 12-foot long canal of sorts. Then, we poured unknown quantities of water down our makeshift river. It was the perfect project for an unscheduled summer day.

When I think back to this moment, it’s easy to be nostalgic. Here, my brother and I worked tirelessly on a project without meaning or reason — just childhood fun. We both smiled back and forth, and were filthy by the end of it. It was a freedom that children seem to have that adults relinquish.

But happiness was an elusive quality back then. I know that during my childhood and adolescence, I felt sad much of the time. There were various factors influencing my sadness, but I know that internally something was off, too. I was desperate to feel “normal.” I was desperate for others to like me. Really, I was desperate to feel happy. Yet, I couldn’t be more miserable.

The media message of happiness

In the worst of moods, hardest times, and deepest depressions, all I wanted was happiness. It’s frequently been the mantra coursing through me.

The world around us says we deserve to be happy. Growing up, I had the unfortunate inclination and timing to enjoy shows like FOX’s The O.C. and MTV’s Laguna Beach. They each flaunted an inconceivable wealth and privilege.

They seemed happy, even in their dramas. It was an endless party for them, and I wanted in. The mundane aspects of life didn’t exist in these shows. Abnormally long bathroom routines, cooking breakfast, writing for hours, and listening to a lecturer drone on weren’t the focus of these “teenagers’” lives. No, the excitement was in the sex, fashion, and material wealth.

These shows helped craft a warped sense of drive towards income and status. Unfortunately, each step towards those goals made me more miserable. Happiness was eluding me.

Suppression of thoughts only causes more

Oftentimes, to find happiness, people attempt to suppress thoughts/feelings of sadness. For short periods, individuals are able to say, “I’m not going to let myself feel sad.” And it sort of works. We can temporarily tell ourselves not to be sad. It’s just that over time we suffer from this forced suppression and rejection of feelings.

Researchers have consistently found that thought suppression doesn’t work longer term. What happens is that people frequently endorse an ironic “rebound effect” in feelings of sadness and are less capable at suppression later on. In other words, by forcing our natural emotions down and rejecting them, we do more harm than good.

“I’m just trying to be happy”

The consequences of our culture messages and thought suppression may be grave for both your happiness and budget. Oftentimes, people try to spend their way to happiness. Popular media spoon feed us a message that we deserve to feel this way, and that it is accessible through purchases.

When we can’t buy our way to happiness because our budgets are too tight, we feel sadness and unease. When we can buy material goods that are supposed to provide us lasting happiness (at least, that’s what the commercials suggest), we often continue to feel sadness and unease.

The traditional methods of “trying” to find happiness seem stale. There’s something wretched and moldy and overgrown. We’ve let corporate messages persuade us into thinking that Lexuses will make us better people, and in turn — finally — happy. We’ve let Coca-Cola re-brand itself repeatedly — most recently taking on the Internet and cleaning it up. We’ve let alcohol and tobacco companies objectify women to sell us drug-addled euphoria.

And yet, we’re still not happy.

Going with the emotional flow

I propose we smash these corporate-defined messages of success, achievement, and happiness. They’re not working for you, are they? Do their messages of pre-scripted happiness help? Do you watch beautiful people enjoy expensive goods and feel better about yourself?

If the solution was in our media, thought suppression, and material goods, we’d be the happiest people on Earth. Unfortunately, these methods don’t make us happier and they goad us into spending more money. There must be a better way.

As someone with a psychological background and soon to become a counseling psychologist, I hesitate to “prescribe” any one solution. We all come from different backgrounds, environments, and experiences. One size does not fit all, but I do have some propositions.

1. Change the end goal

Frequently, the reasons for saving, making, and spending money are aimed at satisfaction and happiness. It sort of sounds like, “I’ll be happy when I’ve earned a million dollars.” In framing our futures in this light, we’ve locked up an emotion for a later date. Until certain levels of wealth and material worth are achieved, people with these goals and ideals will experience emptiness.

It requires a certain level of mental flexibility, but if we can change the end goal, there’s hope for a better moment-to-moment life. Society says we should always be happy, but what will you say? Change the end goal to something like mental wellness and a fuller life may follow.

2. Learn to accept all emotions

As a counselor, I understand that many people grow up hearing these messages: “Stop crying,” “Cheer up,” and “It’ll be better next time.” Each of these negates the very real feelings beyond happiness that people might be feeling. They lay the groundwork for a life that will soon be happy — if only you’d stop being “weak.”

Life is not good or bad — happy or sad. When it’s boring or sad, we tend to spend more for excitement and happiness. It’s a self-medicated response that’s learned through the mass consumption of a culture that proselytizes this value.

Life is good and bad. There are swings of emotional highs and lows, and sometimes it’s boring and dull. That’s the real normal. If we can accept and think, “I’m sad right now, and that’s okay. At some point I’ll be happy again, too,” we’ll be better able to save.

3. Question anything that purports to provide long-term happiness

Hershey’s candy bars and BMW M5s can make us feel better. Likely, most of us have felt the joy of buying a treat. There’s this immediate headrush of excitement — from yum to zoom. But however much we might want it to stick around, it fades away.

Buying stuff is a short-term solution to long-term emotions. Feeling dull or down? Take a hit and buy something. Your immediate, short-term response will be happiness.

Let’s define a new normal, where we accept our own and each other’s emotions — whatever they may be. Let’s recognize that no emotion is permanent, and that buying stuff should never be the long-term fix. Let’s learn to embrace the thoughts that scare us, because they’re only that — thoughts.

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I like Ikea a lot, but this place makes me think, “You know what would be nice?” Photo: Håkan Dahlström/Flickr

A dendritic response arcs across my brain, as a firing of emotional and processing centers make me think, “You know what would be nice?” It’s the beginning of a dangerous game for me; at times, that question begets rampant spending.

“You know what would be nice” is a phrase that envisions the bigger picture, better future, and more attractive self. It encapsulates my desire for nicer clothes, electronics, furniture, etc. I can see and feel how an iPhone 6 might complete my left pant pocket. The svelte thickness and aluminum texture captivate me in these moments.

“You know what would be nice” is the reason Ikea, Target, and other big-box retailers exist. They perfected the art of the ensemble. It wasn’t enough to get/have a couch; now, you needed the accoutrements. They suggest “what would be nice” and show you the pairing. Their catalogs and stores are expertly laid out to exemplify an orgiastic group of accessories.

A small rug could complement the dining room. That watch would make this outfit POP. This lamp shade would make my room cozier. This shirt would be great for a night out.

“You know what would be nice” is the dream hypothetical that only lives in marketers’ models. Realizing this is one of the most painful lessons in consumerism. No matter how many “nice” things I own, the question will continue to putz around my little mind — craving me to cave and spend.

I’m not sure when I started saying this phrase. It’s led to horrible spending habits at certain times in my life. And I’ve heard others, mouths agape, vomit this treacherous line, too. The reality and solution is far simpler.

All we need to do is change the desired answer — a détournement to the prescribed answer. “You know what would be nice?” To be content with who I am today, the things around me, and the life I lead. “You know what would be nice?” To quiet the racing mind that suggests I need anything consumeristic to complete me. “You know what would be nice?” To make purchases out of necessity and enjoyment, rather than compulsion and marketing pressure.